Being home from the holidays reminds me of many things I forget while at school. Although being home reminds me of sufficient water pressure, a bed that isn’t comparable to a rock, and a meal I actually want to eat, it reminds me how blessed I truly am. Being home reminds me of all the time and things I took for granted prior to leaving for college.
Once I hit my teenage years, I didn’t consider hanging out with my family a particularly spectacular activity. Now, whenever I come home, I may enjoy spending time with my family more than my friends. Coming home to a meal that does not need to be carried on a plastic tray and the company of my mom beats a night out any day. Since my visits home are now rarer, I am less willing to ditch my parents for a night out with friends.
Before college, I couldn’t wait to evade the watchful eye of my parents. I sought out the freedom that college provides. Never did I think that I would willingly call my parents several times a day to seek their advice. Being home reminds me how it is a privilege to be surrounded by my parents, something I took for granted growing up. The saying mom knows best could never be truer; because parents can make everything better—even by doing nothing at all.
I thought that I was busy in high school, but I never realized how busy I could actually be until I got to college. The workload is significantly greater, the hours spent at the library longer, and time spent sleeping quite shorter. Being in such a relaxed, home environment is a relief from the rigor of college life. Finals are over, you can sleep in as late as you wish, and your previous obligations melt away. In high school, I took for granted the time I spent laying around the house with my family—something I take full advantage of now whenever I am home. But don’t get me wrong, after this break I will be more than ready to head back to school to ensure I don’t rip my parents’ heads off.
Another perk of being home is you’re in an environment where your family is happier to have you home than you are to be home. After four months, you’re finally in a setting where you feel most loved. You’re greeted with hugs and constant reminders of how much you’re loved—whether this love is displayed through home cooked meals, gifts, or literal expressions. As the songs say, there really is no place like home for the holidays.
Furthermore, a full house is no longer an annoyance. My mom’s constant questions—even when she’s already asked the same one 3 times—don’t drive me into a fit, but rather show me how much she cares. When my dad drones on about money, the rest of my college career, and jobs, it no longer is a dreaded conversation, but vital advice that I can one day use. Since going to college, I have realized that what my parents are telling me is actually useful information; I’ve started listening instead of nodding along.
Being without things shows their importance. The less I see them, the more I enjoy their company. In the past, going home implied something I had to do whether it was pulling into the driveway a few minutes before curfew or returning for an after school nap. Now, it is something I anticipate with excitement. It is an event I write on my calendar and count down the days. As much as I don’t want to admit it, going home now means more than leaving did.
